It’s April*. That means that taxes are due. It also means that you should put your sweaters into storage, and find your shorts—good ol’ Spring Cleaning. I’m a solid week into excavation and have yet to strike it rich with my box of shorts. On the contrary, I am apparently very rich in the rain coat business, four to be exact. Who knew?!

If you wear all 4 at once indoors, chances of staying dry are 100%.

Even at a young age, Ellen wore raincoats when it wasn’t raining. And Sara wore a scrunchie with a whale spout of hair directly on the top of her head.

Here is a list of some other friends I found hiding out in my closet which I love dearly, but lucky for you, have listed on eBay (might I add that I have 100% positive feedback):

On the flip side of the coin, I would like to share with you an item that El will NOT be selling on eBay so you can witness the arbitrary methodology we’re working with here.

Speaking of BIRDS, one has eaten all my cauliflower, cilantro and parsley seedlings. This has prompted a lot of pacing and stomping and sternly talking to myself while waving a trowel in the air. I am on the warpath over a bird. This is what 30 looks like. We finally put up some bird netting yesterday which made me feel only a little more normal. The thing that really made me feel better was tacking up some of the bird netting across Ellen’s bedroom door to catch a big bird. Tsss sssss ssss! <—snake laugh

Here is a crappy video of the moment where she walked full speed into the net. I just replay the noise she makes over and over and over.

Like me, you may have noticed that it has been over a month since our last post. I want you all to know this is entirely Ellen’s fault. She was slated to write about how there are NO full restaurant Pizza Huts off of I-84 in CT and trying to find one is pretty much like trying to find the end of a rainbow. This zesty rainbow we are fully prepared to chase for the rest of our lives.

On our last trip home from NJ, after an hour of cross referencing Google Maps and calling a baker’s dozen of numbers, I did find one in Vernon complete with salad bar and Christmas tree (in the month of March).

A telltale sign you have arrived is the trapezoidal windows.

That is the short version of the story but that’s all you get because we have a slacker in our midst and it’s time to move on to other things that have happened.

Other things:

1.) Cochon 555 – This culinary event is all about 5 heritage pigs, 5 chefs, and 5 winemakers and this was our second time attending. Read on in amazement as I step off my vegetarian high horse, which is really more like a miniature pony, to tell you that I’m into this event. While I don’t intentionally* eat the pig dishes there, I am so behind their mission to create sustainability in the way food is grown and/or raised. It is also very impressive to me to see so many local businesses all rallied in one place where the chefs thoughtfully, creatively use the entire pig, leaving little wasted and in doing so, bolstering Cochon 555’s mission.

This year at the event, Ellen was dubbed a judge in the Breckenridge Bourbon cocktail contest, “Punch Kings,” and she took this duty very seriously sampling and taking notes on the 6 punches. Meanwhile, I secretly dubbed myself a cheese judge for a contest that existed in my mind. It was wildly successful.

2.) Local Natives – Sweet angel of mercy, do they put on a great live show. This re-lit the Local Natives fire in my heart and gave us motivation to listen more to Hummingbird which we had not previously paid due respect. It seemed to sit in Gorilla Manor’s shadow upon first listen.

Speaking of due respect, let’s talk about Tasty Burger in Fenway. After every concert, we are always left wondering who is going to feed us cheese fries? Who?! We are proud to report we sampled their wares after the show and their cheese was elevated to a sophisticated level that begged the question, “Am I from a can or am I Velveeta’s rich Uncle?” Both. The answer is both.

Below is a very good record preserved in time of us waiting for Local Natives to hit the stage.

3.) We are going to see The Presidents of the United States of America tomorrow night. They are playing their self-titled album in its entirety. It’s happening.

We’ve covered a lot of ground here. If you made it to the end, I salute you and promise never to abandon you for so long ever again.

Do you guys remember the music store The Wall? They had a lifetime guarantee if you bought CDs from them and put their blue sticker on your case. Fat lot of good that does me today. Good thing I treat each and every CD like a semi-precious stone and polish them weekly.

a rare specimen

Anyway, I digress. What’s most important in the picture above is not the The Wall sticker. It’s the fact that it’s my very first Eels album from 1996. It has taken me 17 years to see them live. How did this happen?! It’s inexcusable and I should be punished by being force-fed eel soup. They were simply wonderful! I give stage presence a 10. I also give E’s use of Waterfall Rain Stick a 10. Matching Adidas track suits, also 10. In this paragraph, I’m handing out 10s like candy. AND they started the set with the first track of the newest album which is exactly what I wanted them to do! I’m too excited to keep writing nice things about them so let’s let Ellen have at it…

WHAT A FUN SHOW!! All caps here. Big time fun. Their set flew by, an adventure from start to finish. A good deal of the material was from the new album, Wonderful, Glorious, which I’m becoming very fond of. On the other hand, there were actually many favorites that didn’t make it onto the set list but that’s what happens when a band has 87,984 records spanning their career. Flower was sadder and more earnest than I could have ever hoped for, and they also did a flashback mashup by blending My Beloved Monster with Mr. E’s Beautiful Blues. Lastly, I just loved how much fun it looked like they were having. There was an awful lot of hugging and smiling going on and it filled me with sunshine and birds.

But WAIT. We’re not finished! Our pal Lauren went to see them in Philly Saturday night and she’d like to flow on the mic now…

…Oh. Well hi there. I feel honored and privileged to be contributing to WL. So here goes.

While dancing my heart out during their amazing set at World Cafe Live, I had a thought: I can remember the exact moment, sitting on the carpet of my bedroom in my mother’s house, that I fell in love with my favorite band. And I just recently had an, “Oh my gosh I think I love Nine Inch Nails” realization. But I don’t remember my come-to-E moment with Eels. This love has just always been, somehow.*

And I felt that among my fellow concert-goers on Saturday night – the amazing crowd of gray pony-tailed men, ex-hippie ladies, the few flannel-clad late 20/early 30 somethings, and even the guy who had his red rain jacket slung over his shoulder like he just didn’t give a hoot. The band had everyone dancing, smiling, raising their beers and singing along, and I think it can really be attributed to how much fun they were having themselves, on stage. Plus, they were probably so comfy in those dang track suits.

*I’d like to be able to use a Wall sticker like the rings of a tree like Sara has, but unfortunately I was a weirdo who used to carefully cut around the cellophane of the stickers and save them, to only be used in case of emergency. Then again, maybe from a very young age I was just extremely business-savvy and knew The Wall may not be in existence long enough to handle future issues.

From time to time, Ellen goes on business trip press runs as part of her design job. Lately, she has been making the most of her time off the clock while on these trips. I would like to tell you about the latest instance for which I have pieced together a timeline based on a series of manic texts and phone calls.

First of all, that girl is a sucker for a hotel pool. She doesn’t really do laps or anything. A belly-up dead man’s float is more her style.

The proof is in the Chlorine pudding.

She sent me a text that read,”Woke up at 6:30 am for a swim. Swam for approximately 6 minutes before I was joined by a 70+ year old man in a Speedo. I fled the scene.” I would like to know what she expected to happen differently at that hour of the morning.

A little while later, I got a text.”Irish Fries are really just steak cut fries.”

After that, the update I received was that it was late at night and the only places in the town serving food were the bars. The bar she chose was a karaoke bar. Obviously. I got a phone call.

“HI! It’s me. I made some nerd friends. I’ll text you when I get back to the hotel but I’m up next and so I’m gonna Shoop before I leave. My friends will watch my leftover Veggie Lover Pizza.”

And then she Shooped, brought the house down, dropped the mic on the table and went back to the hotel.

As she traveled home after the press run on Friday, she got hungry:

“At legit Mexican restaurant about to eat my face off on a little something they call the 3 Amigos.”

“True life.”

“The waiters are laughing at me.”

“They are very impressed.”

The following pictures arrived 9 minutes apart according to the time stamps:

This past Wednesday the 13th started off so poorly that it might as well have been Friday the 13th.

Ellen:

In transferring to a tupperware, I massacred my fudge bar creation I made for an office birthday. Gordon Ramsay would have invented at least three new expletives if he was in my kitchen.

Upon leaving the house, I encountered my icy front porch. With the right side of my body—completely laid out.

I trudged a 1/2 mile to the T station, got to the gate and then realized my wallet had not joined me on the journey.

Have I mentioned I was trying to make a morning meeting at work? Verge of meltdown here, people.

Executive decision to get a cab.

Dropped sunglasses in mysterious pool of liquid on the floor of the back seat of the cab.

Arrived with a few minutes to spare before the meeting. Exactly enough time to eat my feelings (via homemade fudge disaster). In all honesty, I ate those feelings intermittently for the rest of the day as I counted the hours left until the Willy Mason show would make everything better.

MEANWHILE, ACROSS TOWN…

Sara:

When I got to work, I went into the bathroom to fix my hair since I often arrive windblown resembling Gene Wilder sans top hat. As I was doing my best to remedy, I heard a “tsssssssss” sound alerting me to the fact that the automatic air freshener had gently released a cloud of fake oranges. On me. Gliding through my hair. Tenderly clinging to my sweater and jeans. Into my mouth. I stood there for a few moments just gazing back at myself in the mirror pretending what had just taken place was pure imagination.

After work, we met up with Erik and ate some delicious food at Life Alive. They use a lot of Papyrus font on their menu. They also use a lot of garlic in their cooking which is good because we were going to a concert after dinner and I thought eating garlic would decrease the chances of people getting too close to me and blocking my view at the show.

Willy Mason has a deep (in tone and also soulfulness), hearty voice that whisks your mind away to a foggy place that feels like everyone has bare feet and is sitting around a fire telling stories and making observations on how disjointed society is but never in an overly preachy way. If you have the patience for this type of music, you’ll find yourself singing the call and response parts and having undeniable urges to learn how to finger pick on a hollow body electric. One of the coolest things about Willy is how well he wears his genre of music. After listening to a song or two, you come to understand and admire that he never compromised on his path, never became anything other than the artist he has always been and the result is honest and beautifully haunting.

Sara has been pushing me to write more of our posts, so here is my first solo work.

Today is the Super Bowl. In accordance with our game day tradition Sara, Erik and I each made one delicious junk food treat and we ate in waves of tasty glory throughout the day. A day like today inevitably becomes an all out DMF fest. Let me explain: A condition both Sara and I share is a little something we call Dinner Meal Feel, or DMF for short. It’s a feeling that creeps over us once our bellies are 5% past capacity. The results are similar to Toddlers & Tiaras contestants after a healthy dose of Pixy Sticks. Madness ensues. Erik hates it. But sometimes indulges us and we love him for it.

There have been 3 separate occasions on which we have tried and failed to see Ra Ra Riot live. In most of these instances, the Beer Gods were conspiring against us and we just didn’t make it. This past Saturday, that all changed.

Steps involved in this process:

1.) Listen to The Rhumb Line while getting ready by strategically positioning iPhone on shelf in bathroom so it makes the most sound and is least close to toilet water.

2.) Arrive for transfer to Green Line at Park St. Shudder with fear because you sense a homeless person is charging at you like a bull with a green winter hat on.

3.) Realize it’s just Ellen charging at you like a bull with a green winter hat on.

6.) Love life. They played an outstanding high-energy, super tight set. I will say, however, that going in not having listened to any tracks off the new album, I felt like that particular stuff was crossing the boundary of too glossy and synthy for me but that’s just personal taste. The cello and violin reinforced, even elevated the buoyancy of the songs which is a gulp of fresh air in terms of string implementation. Easy, breezy, beautiful bow-wielding girls. Let’s talk about Wes Miles’ lovely voice a little bit. I was struck by how much stronger it was presented live compared to the albums. He managed to hit every note on the bulls-eye, rarely sliding up to meet it. A grand feat! And that guy is not afraid to use the old falsetto.

7.) Why do the guitarist and the bassist look like twin Ben Folds-es? As they inched closer and closer to each other on stage during musical interludes, I got scared they were in danger of cancelling each other out. This is based on my extensive knowledge of the laws of physics. Atoms. Space-time continuum. Bunsen burner.

We have been known to cut a little rug in our time. Our childhood dance trophies adorn the windowsill in the back stairwell and the golden plastic Fosse ladies on the tops of them shimmer in the sunlight reminding us that our past is littered with sequins and lime green spandex. Reminding us of a time when Mancini’s Baby Elephant Walk was a chart topping hit in our minds. Did you catch that? I was acting like I now have different, more timely musical taste which is just not the case. Let’s face it: Baby Elephant Walk is my ringtone present day. I feel better now.

Another thing that happens present day is that we take Music Video Dance class regularly. It allows us to relive the glory days and pretend like we don’t really need knee pads and aspirin to slide around on the floor on our kneecaps. It is also the only link between us and actual chart topping dance pop music. I think this story just folded in on itself. I’m confused. I’d better stop here and just show a video.

For 3 ball drops now, we have been ringing in the new year with dear friends in a casual yet competitive atmosphere here in Cambridge. Some of us will go down in the history book of our NYE Olympics. Some of us will just plain go down. And lay on the ground. And swish our legs making hardwood floor angels.

Now, we all know what you’re thinking when we say NYE Olympics: Beer Pong, Flip Cup, Kings, etc. Instead of this preconceived notion, we ask that you follow us on a journey of children’s birthday party games played by almost-30-year-olds (touchy subject).

Game #1—Word BucketLet’s start off with the most grown up game we played all night. Throw some names of people (famous people, friends, Garfield) in a bucket. Whoops! I’m bored explaining it. It had a lot of rules but was totally fun. Go to this page and do the Alternative Play version. Our advice is to start your night with this one as it requires a little more brain power and motor control than the other games in our Olympics, if you gather our meaning.

Game #2—Saggy SackIf you are thinking the title of this game sounds a little PG-13 for a children’s birthday party, you are right. We renamed it. This is an all-time favorite year after year. All it requires is 2 grapefruits, masking tape, panty hose and some Elvis pelvis.

Game #3—Cotton BallsThis one made its NYE Olympics debut this year and was a smash hit. 2 team relay + Vaseline on nose + cotton balls + 2 receptacles = THRILLING!

Game #4—EatingThis isn’t a game but Sara always wins.

We think you’ll get a better flavor for our night if you watch this video Ellen edited showing off our certain set of skills (Neesons!). HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Without further ado, we present to you the bonus video from our 2012 holiday card:

Notes from behind the scenes:

1.) I spent hours cooking this meal and it took us all at least an hour and a half to get the facepaint on. Add to that all the time it took to shoot the video and multiply that by me and El not having had another meal that day and you have grounds for a near mutiny on your hands. I confess to sneaking spoonfuls of mashed potatoes into my mouth before it was officially chow time.

2.) I also confess that once Erik said it was time to film the eating part, I ate too fast, acted up, went into a food coma where I became non-verbal for about 17 minutes.

3.) Despite the fact that the white face paint was really diaper rash cream, we still got rashes on our faces. Moral: Your face is not the same thing as a baby butt no matter how soft it is.